Thoughts, experiments, and general "whatevers" by a writer with a mild case of ADD.

A QUESTION FOR YOU (YES, YOU!)

I have two writing projects underway. The one that’s got me excited starts with these lines:

“Grandma didn’t like me. I knew this well before I was old enough to ask my mom or even my dad about it. But there was no doubt: she didn’t like me. In fact, she didn’t like any of us. Not my mother, not my brother, not even my dad, her son.”

My question: What do you want to know and why? Where does your imagination take you?

2 thoughts on “A QUESTION FOR YOU (YES, YOU!)”

What influences in her life brought her to that position; what is HER story? We all have events that shape us, complex experiences that set our feet upon the conflicted paths we journey. Did she withhold love out of fear, anger, revenge–deliberate cruelty? Or an inability to feel anything at all? I want to know if she was aware of not loving. I want to know this woman, have pity for her without condoning. What must her world have like to endure such coldness, such isolation? Somehow it made sense to her; either from a decision she made herself or from indoctrination. How did that position serve her/hurt her. Show me both sides of her. None of us are all good or all bad. What ways did she NOT show love, love as you and others felt were normal ways–smiles, affectionate words or touches–but also were there any ways, possibly taken for granted or not even acknowledged, where she was able to extend something of herself. I want to see her through examples of situations, not just tell me she didn’t like anyone.

My grandmother also was a very distant person. Highly critical of any behavior not condoned by the church, a perfectionist housewife and hostess, a woman who only wrote letters that dealt with the weather on her roses. Hard to imagine her marrying my grandfather, five years her junior, who courted her by standing up on the seat of his motorcycle as he whizzed past, waving both hands. My favorite picture of her is of her glowing smile, wearing tiny pearl earrings grandpa gave to her, years later, when they changed churches and she was allowed to wear jewelry.

I know so little about her and all the people who would be good primary sources have long since died. I’m thinking of turning the whole thing into fiction; your ideas send my imagination whirling! Thanks for a thoughtful, inspiring response.